by Karen White
“High school was a long time ago, Heather. None of that stuff matters anymore.”
“None of that matters?” Heather sneered, her face twisted into somebody Merilee couldn’t recognize. “You ruined my life. Do you have any idea of what it’s like to be one of the Daisies of the world? The kind of person people despise even though they have no idea who that person really is?” She laughed again, and Merilee cringed, wondering how she’d forgotten that sound. “Of course not. And if you’d just gone to jail like I’d planned, you’d know. But now our plans have to change.”
A sharp snap of thunder followed by a brilliant flash of light charged the atmosphere, the stench of burnt ions floating in the air.
Heather smiled her beautiful Barbie smile. “It’s the perfect night for a suicide, don’t you think?” She held up the heavy clock. “Or an accident. I haven’t decided yet. This clock gave me the idea. People slip and hit their heads all the time, especially in the bathroom. And a drowning would be just perfect under the circumstances. Suicide or accident; it won’t matter. As long as you’re gone, and the last thing you see is my face. My new face. Not the one you tormented in high school.”
Icy-cold fear shot through Merilee’s body, as if she’d been electrocuted. Think. “Heather, you’re right. You are smart. So think about it. My yearbook gives away your motive for setting me up for Dan’s death. Killing me won’t change any of that.”
Heather pretended to think for a moment. “True. But you’ll be dead, and that’s something I’ve been dreaming about for years. Ever since you killed John. I loved him, you know. You didn’t deserve him. You got away with murder then, so it seems right that you get punished eventually—even for a crime you may or may not have committed.” She smiled pleasantly; she was like a cat playing with her prey. “I just wanted to torture you for a little bit, keep you guessing. Like you did to me in high school, pretending to be my friend when no one was looking.”
Heather stepped closer as Merilee pressed herself into the wall at her back. “But why did you kill Dan? I can understand why you’d hate me, but why Dan?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Well, that’s the thing. He wanted to make changes to our lives—our perfect lives. He wanted to sell the Tybee house, and maybe even the Lake Lanier house. Downsize our house here in Sweet Apple. I mean, can you imagine? The very life I’ve worked for, and he wants to downsize it?” She paused as if really expecting Merilee to agree with her. Instead, Merilee said nothing, looking for an opportunity to escape.
Taking Merilee’s silence as agreement, Heather continued. “Besides, I was already tired of him. I only married him for his money, you know. If I’d any idea that Wade would become as successful as he has, I would have stuck with him. Then I would have had everything I wanted. And now, with Dan out of the way, I’ve got my second chance for the truly perfect life.”
Heather smiled, and it was as if tiny icicles had invaded Merilee’s bloodstream. “I ran into Wade over the summer, and I remember thinking that exact thought, but I had no idea how I was going to get rid of Dan. Divorce is so messy, and so expensive, that I couldn’t figure out what to do. And when you moved here, and I recognized you without your having any idea who I was, it was like all my dreams had come true. I finally had an answer to everything that ailed me.”
“Heather, come on. Think about your children. You need help—let me call the police now and they’ll make sure you get the help you need—”
Heather yanked on the tie to Merilee’s robe, keeping her close, jerking her into the bathroom, their feet splashing in water. Merilee fought to pull away, but Heather raised her other hand, the one holding the marble clock, a good enough threat to keep Merilee under control. The water poured over the sides of the tub now, the black-and-white tiles around it already submerged in lavender-scented suds. Heather was taller than Merilee, and stronger from all the hours she spent with her personal trainer. Merilee would lose any physical fight. Her only chance would be reason. And staying calm despite what her brain and body were telling her.
“When the police know our connection, they’ll focus on you. I know you see that.”
“True. Maybe they will; maybe they won’t. But you’ll still be dead. And I’ll have the best lawyers money can buy. Even if I have to spend a few years in the loony bin, it will be worth it to know you suffered even one tiny percentage of what you made me go through.”
Spittle hit Merilee’s cheek, flying from the mouth of a woman she no longer recognized. She pulled back, frightened of the hate and rage distorting Heather’s beautiful face. Knowing she could neither understand it nor reason with it. Merilee’s feet slipped in the water as Heather continued to push her backward until the backs of her legs bumped into the side of the tub.
She thought of Lily and Colin and knew she had to keep trying. “Heather, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I hate myself for it; I do. I still beat myself up about it, because you didn’t deserve it. None of it. Because I liked you. You were funny and smart—you always got better grades than me, remember?—but those were two things my mother said I could never be. And that made you an easy target for me, and for that I’m so, so sorry.”
Heather’s face contorted, her skin a florid red in the heat of the bathroom. “You’re sorry? It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” She raised her arm with the clock, prepared to strike at Merilee’s head just as an earsplitting crash of thunder vibrated through the house and a brilliant flash of lightning sent an eerie surge of electricity pushing through the walls. Merilee had one last look at Heather’s enraged face as the lights pulsed brighter for a brief moment and then went out.
Merilee ducked and shoved as hard as she could, catching Heather off-balance, making her lose her grip on the robe’s belt. Heather fell backward with a grunt, colliding with the toilet; what sounded like the tank lid smashing onto the tile floor followed.
Stumbling forward in the dark, Merilee headed for the doorway, knocking her head against the doorframe before finding herself in the hallway. Something whizzed by her head and crashed into the wall behind her. It might have been the clock, but Merilee didn’t stick around to find out. She scrambled toward the front room in a blind panic, hitting a wall and then pounding her knee into a piece of furniture. She heard Heather close behind her, heard her breathing hard.
A flash of lightning illuminated Heather holding up a triangle of broken porcelain, its edges as sharp as a razor’s. She lunged forward with it as the house descended into darkness again. Merilee threw herself over the back of the sofa she’d discovered she was standing against during the brief flash of light. Heather followed, crashing first into the console table behind it, the phone and answering machine hitting the wood floor with an oddly flat bell ring.
“You bitch!” Heather screamed, right behind Merilee now, so close Merilee could smell her sweat.
Merilee tripped over something low, twisting her ankle, the fall momentarily stunning her. Heather raced toward her, stumbling into immovable objects and sending more fragile things crashing to the floor.
A sharp and searing pain shot up Merilee’s arm as she crouched on the floor next to the ottoman, realizing that Heather had cut her with a blind stab of the jagged piece of porcelain. Ignoring the pain in her arm and ankle, Merilee sprinted forward in what she thought was the direction of the kitchen.
Heather stumbled again, and Merilee used that brief second to catch her breath, to try to gain her bearings. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain, she heard Colin’s voice. Everything’s the same in the dark—if you close your eyes, you’ll remember what it looks like when the lights are on.
Merilee closed her eyes and saw the front room—the armchair, the console, the cedar chest. The ottoman she’d just flipped over. She pictured the path from it to the kitchen doorway, knew she’d pass the shelves Wade had made for her, then a right to the kitchen and the back doo
r.
A crash of glass shattering jolted her eyes open and she dashed forward, holding out her hands to feel what she passed as she moved. Ottoman. Shelves. Sharp right, kitchen doorway.
Her feet felt the change from wood floors to linoleum. She could hear Heather gaining on her, bumping into walls and furniture but not slowing down. Another flash of lightning poured through all the windows, illuminating everything, pinpointing Merilee’s location and showing Heather charging toward her.
Merilee ran blindly in the direction of the door. A knife. She’d barely had the thought before she dismissed it. She knew she could reach the door in time. Probably not a knife.
She hit the door hard, sticky blood from her arm dripping onto her hand and the doorknob. She jerked it to the right, sliding open the dead bolt at the same time with her other hand, then ran out into the sodden night.
She made the mistake of pausing, just for a moment, wondering where she should go next. And then the lightning flashed and Heather was in front of her, slashing at her with the piece of porcelain gripped in her hand like a knife.
Merilee dodged and ran blindly. She’d made it around the corner of the house when something sharp sliced down the middle of her back. She jerked to the side, trying to throw Heather off-balance. Heather’s sock-clad feet slipped on the saturated grass and she went down with a loud grunt, then lay perfectly still. Merilee began to run again, knowing exactly where she should go.
Thirty-six
SUGAR
She wasn’t afraid. It would take a lot more than a storm siren to scare her at her age. She’d been through too many in her lifetime to warrant much notice. Besides, there was so much more in life to be afraid of. Like making sure you and your family had enough food to eat to survive, or sending a husband and brothers off to war. Or trusting a friend with a secret.
The rain struck her in the face as the wind threatened to remove her plastic cap. She’d be annoyed if it blew off and her hair got soaked. She’d just had it done at the beauty parlor and she’d paid a small ransom for the pleasure. Keeping the flashlight trained in front of her just in case she spotted the dog, she kept to the grassy side of the dirt driveway, not wanting to get stuck in the mud, following it slowly up to Merilee’s house, questioning her sanity more than once.
She couldn’t make out any flashlight beam from inside, which worried her. What if Merilee was asleep? Because Sugar was quite sure if Merilee had heard the sirens, she’d be on her way to get Sugar right at this moment. But there was no sign of the young woman and no flicker of light from inside.
Her knees and hips were screaming at her now, and as she studied the front steps, she wasn’t sure if she could climb them by herself. She put her hand on the porch railing as wind and rain and leaves swirled at her feet. What was she doing? If she broke a hip, she and Willa Faye would be roommates before she knew it.
There were fewer steps at the back porch because of the elevation, and they were wider and less steep. She’d have a better chance of climbing those without getting hurt.
The wind was at her back as she rounded the house, focusing on the circle of light from her flashlight to guide her. She reached the corner just as the sky roared above her, three lightning flashes following in quick succession, granting the world a few seconds of broad daylight. Sugar stared at the back porch and the door swinging in the wind, the empty kitchen beyond.
Cupping her hand to her mouth, she tried calling Merilee’s name, but the word was thrown away by the wind. Holding her breath as if that might somehow contain the pain, she climbed the steps one at a time, clutching tightly to the railing, then pausing for a long moment to recover when she reached the top.
Following the beam of her flashlight, she entered the kitchen. “Merilee! Are you here? Merilee, it’s Sugar! We need to get to the cellar.” No answer. Her flashlight traveled from the floor to the doorway, illuminating the kitchen table. Jimmy’s binoculars sat on the edge as if he’d just put them there and left the room. She picked them up by the strap. If there was a tornado tonight, it wasn’t taking Jimmy’s binoculars.
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her joints, she walked to the doorway of the kitchen and stopped. Furniture and broken glass lay everywhere, as if the tornado had already struck, but only on the inside of the house.
“Merilee? Are you here?” Being careful not to trip on anything, she used the flashlight to guide her down the hallway, the heavy scent of lavender filling the air outside the bathroom. Her feet sloshed through water and she moved the flashlight down to her feet, amazed to find standing water. Her first thought was a roof leak, until she became aware of the sound of running water.
Aiming her flashlight into the bathroom, she saw the faucets running, a waterfall spilling over the sides and onto the floor tiles she remembered selecting with Tom. She couldn’t stand to see such wastefulness, and despite everything else going on around her, she was compelled to trudge forward and turn off the faucets. The sirens seemed louder now, the wind more frantic as she backed out of the bathroom and made her way as quickly as she could to the back bedroom.
The bed was still made, the familiar yearbook lying on its back in the corner of it, but Sugar didn’t stop to figure out why. She made her way back to the kitchen as fast as she could manage, peering into the other two bedrooms to make sure they were empty, a growing pit of worry consuming her as she continued to call Merilee’s name.
She stood on the back porch, clutching the flashlight and the strap of the binoculars, feeling an odd change to the wind as it seemed to pick another direction. She could only hope the dog had found its own refuge from the storm. She was exhausted, and storm sirens or not, she found herself wishing that she’d just gone to bed when she’d had the chance.
Her plastic bonnet flew off, but she barely noticed as a piercing scream carried by the wind reached her, causing every hair on her head to stand up. Refusing to feel the pain and stiffness in her knees and hips, she headed down the steps as fast as she could just as another scream whipped the air around her.
• • •
MERILEE
The fall must have winded Heather, because she lay still long enough for Merilee to make it to the cellar. Wade had made her practice opening the doors—not that it made them lighter, but she now knew how much force she needed to put behind the effort. She also knew that they were unlocked. Since nothing inside was valuable, she’d seen no need to lock them. In a life overly burdened with bad luck, this was the first time in a very long while that Merilee found herself catching a break.
She’d flipped up the latch and managed to open a single door when she heard screaming. Unbroken lightning lit the sky like daylight as hail began to fall, stinging her skin as she turned to see Heather running toward her at an awkward gait, rage contorting her beautiful face.
She’s hurt. Merilee reached down and grasped the handle of the open door to close it behind her before Heather reached her. Her fingers, slick with blood and rain, slipped, and she fell back but managed to keep her ground, reaching for the handle again as Heather lunged at her. Heather’s movements were slower, almost lethargic, and Merilee was able to dodge out of the way, losing her footing and jumping onto the top cellar step to keep herself from falling.
No! Merilee was trapped. Heather grinned as she realized it, too. She took a step forward, raising her porcelain weapon. Merilee raised her own arms, instinctive self-preservation erasing the futility of it.
She opened her mouth to scream, but it wasn’t her voice she heard. It was Sugar’s, and just before she closed her eyes to block out Heather, she imagined she saw Sugar slamming Jimmy’s binoculars into the side of Heather’s head.
Instead of feeling a sharp sting from the broken porcelain, Merilee was aware of something heavy hitting the closed cellar door. She opened her eyes to see Heather lying facedown, half-off the door, hail viciously striking her blond head. And Sugar was there
, still holding the binoculars, pressing the heel of her hand against her chest.
The hail intensified as the sky behind Sugar lit up again with steady forks of lightning, the color of the sky shifting from ash gray to a deep green. Heather groaned and dug an elbow into the ground as if she were trying to rise again. Merilee shouted, “Sugar—hurry!”
Sugar stared at her, swaying, not seeming to understand what Merilee was saying. Heather groaned again as an ominous sound rumbled through the skies, vibrating in Merilee’s chest. With warning protests from her ankle, Merilee dashed toward Sugar, put her arms around her, and then half dragged and half carried her down into the cellar, unceremoniously dumping her on the final steps so she could yank the cellar door shut and pull the latch. Her last sight before she closed the door was of a sky the color of okra, and of Heather, blood mixing with hail and rain dripping down the side of her face, on her hands and knees crawling toward the piece of porcelain that had embedded itself in the grass.
Merilee ducked into the cellar, pulling the door closed behind her, taking two tries to slide the latch because of her shaking fingers. A sound like a roaring freight train passing through and then the thick scent of cut pine enveloped them in the small space beneath the old house. Merilee grabbed a camping light—thanks to Wade—and flicked it on, finding Sugar at the bottom of the steps with her eyes closed.
